


Percy: Madness Remains

by Jolly_Writer



Category: American McGee's Alice, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, F/F, F/M, Female Percy Jackson, Genderbending, Going to Hogwarts, Multi, No Bashing, Not Beta Read, Not Quite Binary Character, Possible Character Death, References to other fanfictions, Wonderland, that should be a tag in and of itself, vague sex scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8381824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jolly_Writer/pseuds/Jolly_Writer
Summary: Sally Jackson's past is pretty much a mystery beyond the fate of her parents and only uncle. No one truly knows who James and Laura Jackson are, or who Richard Jackson is, let alone the generations that came before them. And who came before even them. Percy thought being the daughter of Poseidon was enough of a challenge; she never thought her life could get more complicated. Just for something to happen to her and Dionysus seems to be the only one with answers. Then stick-waving period dressers just had to show up. What's up with the fucking robes, anyway? First a Titan overlord for a grandfather, then an evil wizard for a great-grandfather, then she finds out Dionysus is more than a godly cousin. Adding descendant of a lethal lunatic with a thing for furry white creatures was taking this shit too far. The splitting headache wasn't helping much either.





	1. Runaway

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Londerland](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/237445) by 13HoursInWonderland. 



The witch stared at the parchment journal in sorrow, taking in every drawing and every word scrawled onto its pages. _Mrs. Tom Riddle…Mrs. Fallon Riddle…Fallon Jackson-Riddle…Mrs. Tom Marvolo Riddle_. It was like reading a fantasy novel instead of her reality. For that was what those words and pictures would become; nothing more than a dream.

Before recent revelations, her life felt like a dream. Being a witch, magic was possible and she could perform it. Though her family was spread across the continent, traveling to gain research, they were loving and loyal. She had enough money to live comfortably, whether she decided to work or not. Last but certainly not least, she was in love with one of Britain’s brightest, most attractive, and most powerful wizards, a Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Fallon’s first impression of Tom was that he was the perfect gentleman and quite the stimulating conversationalist. Not only did he consider her opinions and allowed her to share her thoughts, but he could easily argue his own points or help her develop her own ideas. Not to mention he could make her smile with the sweetest of words and his dry odd sense of humor. If that did not make him perfect, his unwavering affection and the fair way he treated her left no doubts.

That was until she realized his true intentions.

Seeing as the Jackson family were known for traveling far and wide, being found camping through the forests of Albania was no surprise. Tom Riddle, however, was a curious find in the Albanian forests, making his way by Muggle means. If only for the simple fact, that Mr. Riddle had no love for their mundane neighbors. Every explanation he ever gave never truly sat well with her, but Fallon was willing to set that aside to get to know him personally. Obviously, he never shared much about personal goals.

He had been gathering information on the Dark Arts and practicing them behind her back. Tom was recruiting followers, purebloods and few half-bloods who believe in blood supremacy and the lack of worth in muggles and muggleborns – or mudbloods as some referred to them. He was researching ways to become immortal and achieving them through merciless murder.

And he dare act as if nothing was wrong, as if what he was doing was of no consequence.

Yet she could not bring herself to hate him, for she loved him with all her heart.

However, she did not love him enough to put her child at risk of being raised under the influence of a corrupt man.

She laid her hand on her still flat stomach as she stood with the journal in hand. Walking over to the fireplace, she stared at the flames for what could have been hours before tossing the journal in, watching as the pages slowly burned away. Not giving herself a moment to hesitate, Fallon grabbed her trunks from the bed and walked out, not looking back.

**⁞™Ω…№①…Ω™⁞**

It was in situations such as hers, that Fallon was so very grateful for her family’s love and understanding of the Muggle World. After abandoning her once peaceful life with Tom, Fallon used an emergency portkey that left her outside the front gates of the Jackson Manor in Northumberland – Coventina Hall. It was best to make most of her moves in a location Tom would not find her in.

Then she had taken all of her share of the Jackson family wealth, half was made up of wizarding currency, and the other of muggle English pounds. With a quick floo trip to Diagon Alley’s Gringotts Bank, she had made sure to convert most of her wizarding money into muggle currency. The rest – which she made sure were Galleons – she had melted into blocks of solid gold to bring to several muggle banks in hopes of getting more for her gold than what the Wizarding World thought it was worth. She was left with plenty to support herself until she acquired a stable job.

From Diagon Alley, she exited via the Leaky Cauldron and continued the rest of her journey without any magic of any sort. She did not have much to carry to begin with, since she had wanted to take only the necessities of her current belongings, and none that carried sentimental value. All of that was left behind at Coventina Hall.

Keeping her load light, she was quick to take her money (admittedly hidden magically for just this one trip) and make her way to the nearest airport – the new London Airport – by black cab. Not the worse experience.

The process of arranging for a flight to the States with practically outdated identification, and then playing off the fact that she barely understood most of their terminology…difficult in a way. But Fallon Jackson was not one to quit, especially when so close to her goal. And when she touched down on American soil, it was like a breath of fresh air. Unless Tom decided to start tracking her down through muggle services, he would be brought to a dead end at the Leaky Cauldron, the location of her last act of magic. He could only track her through her magical signature, which she was prepared to cut off at all costs.

He would not find her!

**⁞™Ω…№①…Ω™⁞**

“Congratulations, Miss Jackson! Two boys,” the nurse smiled as she handed two tiny infants to the exhausted but glowing form of Faith Jackson (formerly Fallon Jackson), new mother. Faith grinned from ear to ear as she wiped sweat soaked brown hair away from her face. She carefully reached out for her sons, one at a time. Once in a comfortable position, the doctors and nurses decided to give her some privacy, leaving her to her awe and amazement.

Here were her two little boys. She had known she would have two little ones not long after she started showing. She just did not know what she would be having. Magic would have given her the answer, but that seized to be an option months ago. When she performed an ancient ritual, found in a dusty book from the Coventina Hall library, expelling most of her magical core and that of her then unborn sons.

She remembers how painful it had been, having the magic ripped from every part of her; from her skin, her bones, her veins. From what made her Fallon Jackson. However, even to this day, in the muggle body of simple single mother Faith Jackson, she could feel magic just under the surface. Even with less magic than a squib, there was still some in her being. It seemed even muggles had some magic within them…

Faith shook her head of those thoughts. This was no time to reminisce about her old life. She did not work so hard to make a better life for herself and her babies away from the twisted hypocrisy of the Wizarding World, just to continue to bring it up. She was Faith Jackson. She lived in Queens, New York, in a lovely apartment with a muggle roommate and complete muggle accommodations. She was getting a proper muggle education and was hoping to enter muggle university at some point in her early years as a new mother. She had no time for magic and the issues that came along with it.

Looking back at the beautiful beings in her arms, she found herself smiling again. They both had her brown hair and the blue eyes that she and Tom shared. She could tell from their refined features that they would take after their father. Nonetheless, they were her children, and she would raise them, in her way.

“Richard and James Jackson,” she brought them close to her chest and nuzzled their soft little heads, “Mummy’s little angels.”

 

 _“If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself.” –_ Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson and the Olympians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: June 6, 2015  
> Recently Revised: coming soon because I have a need for perfection!  
> Notes:  
> ~ Historical Research – I tried my best in researching English transportation, American female education liberties, and medical procedures for this chapter. I looked up the probable location for The Leaky Cauldron, and also the nearest available airport from it in the 40s; that happened to be London Heathrow Airport, known as London Airport from 1946 to around 1966. Since the twins are born in 1947, it worked pretty well. I also fell in love with the London taxi design, especially the ones that had a doorless passenger side until the 50s for luggage/trunks. Thankfully over 600,000 woman were in college by the 40s, so Fallon/Faith getting a complete muggle education isn’t far-fetched. And lastly, ultrasound wasn’t around until either the 50s or 60s, forgot which once I realized it was a no-go for me. But it just gave me a way to refer to Fallon/Faith’s ritual, since magic should have been able to tell how many babies she would have and their sex.


	2. Sedate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Examples of: underage sex, slightly hesitant and unwilling partner, inappropriate age-difference relationship, and lack of knowledge of some of the books I’m writing about WARNING!

“Is it over?”

Percy looked around at the layers of fallen warriors and yellow dust that spread across the battlefield. She could see her best friend, Annabeth Chase, and Athena a couple dozen yards away, wiping the monster goo off their respective weapons. Her kinda-sorta cousin, Jason Grace, was touching down next to his sister, Thalia, trying to get his balance after flying around for possibly hours. Other members of the seven, Camp Half-Blood, and Camp Jupiter were either dead or catching their breaths. It seemed she, Percy Jackson, was the one to strike down the last monster. Turning to the rookie now turned experience camper behind her, she took a few deep breaths of her own, weakly nodding her head.

“Yeah….I think it’s over.”

That was when it all dawned on her. She could see many of her friends, standing and collecting themselves. But there were some missing. It was hard to tell how many survivors there were from each camp. She had been asleep for months because of Hera, then away training with Lupa and then running away being chased by gorgons before finally arriving at Camp Jupiter, only to be sent on a quest and then prepare for a new war. A hundred new campers could have joined Camp Half-Blood, and she would not have noticed, let alone have been able to point them out from within a crowd. Forget about knowing all the Romans in the Legion.

But even without that knowledge, there was obviously a severe lack of soldiers on the field. Their numbers had to have reached over 600 demigods and legacies. Now it looked to be just under 450, which although not half or more than half of the starting amount of fighters, it was still a depressing thought that they could have lost so many. Percy took a moment to mourn those lost, knowing that it would hurt less when she did not know the specifics of who died. Gathering her wits, Percy gestured to the others around her, wanting them to follow her. She headed towards where most of the gods were gathered. She dreaded the moment those who died were revealed.

**⁞™Ω…№②…Ω™⁞**

Percy wiped at her eyes as the next shroud was burned. This one belonged to a son of Apollo named Austin. The poor boy had been completely vaporized when they were searching for survivors. All that was left of him was blood and ashes. There was not even one personal object left behind to remember him by. At least his necklace would have offered some relief.

Percy pulled her hand away from her eyes to realize that it was dry. Maybe she had cried so much she had run out of tears? Can your eyes run out of tears? Where do they come from anyway? Percy shook her head, trying to get herself to focus. People had died, this was not the time to fool around, intentional or not. That was when she realized that she was not out of tears; she just did not have the energy to cry. She felt as if she had been crying for hours straight. She had lost so many friends and her emotions were so out of whack, she could not even feel the pain anymore. She was just numb.

Not wanting to stick around and become more of an emotionless wreck, Percy decided to leave the shroud burning. It was nearing 11pm anyway and she was physically, mentally, and emotionally tired. The killer migraine that was suddenly coming on strong was not helping.

“Wise Girl. I’m gonna go. I don’t think I can handle much more of this.” Percy whispered, leaning towards Annabeth, her eyes glancing around. She caught sight of Travis Stoll, leaning into Katie Gardner’s arms as they both cried their eyes out. Percy looked away, not being able to take it. Connor and Miranda were just her friends and the news of their deaths was painful enough to her. She could not imagine being their sibling.

Annabeth turned to her with sad grey eyes. Brushing not only a tear, but also a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, the daughter of Athena nodded. Before Percy could walk away to the camp green and her cabin, the blond grabbed her forearm.

“Don’t beat yourself over this, Seaweed Brain. This was a war, there were bound to be casualties. Without your help, we could have lost more.” Her tone was stern and her eyes determined. Percy could not look her in the eyes as she nodded, her long black hair shielding her face. Annabeth sighed, knowing that any more reassurances would not do much to reassure her best friend who was like a sister to her. She will check up on her later before going off to bed, then again in the morning before breakfast. Percy did not seem one for self-harm, but one should not question the possibilities after what they went through. Letting her go, Annabeth watched Percy slowly stroll off, seemingly off in a different reality that was not this one, her blue-tipped black hair flowing behind her in the breeze. The daughter of Athena would not blame the girl if she was not all there, trying to mentally escape this reality filled with dread. She just hoped the daughter of Poseidon would not make it a habit.

**⁞™Ω…№②…Ω™⁞**

Percy tossed and turned in her sleep, whimpering quietly as she unconsciously scratched at her head and pulled at her hair.

To those of the physical world, the Greek hero was experiencing but a very stressful nightmare that was troubling her. Nothing new to the camp of demigods who have suffered from night terrors and panic attacks.

Only those with powers over the mind could tell otherwise, for Percy’s mind was barely intact enough to form a solid nightmare.

What was once an ordered chaos of white open space and floating thoughts and flickering memories, bright with life, was quickly falling apart. The thoughts that were once harmless streams floating in the white were now speeding through the space like rogue bullets, ripping through everything like it was all but cheap fabric. Along with being ripped apart by frantic thoughts, the memories faded away as they were practically stretched beyond their limits, as if they were cloth being pulled apart by two powerful forces. If one could, they would hear a sound like tearing flesh as rips in the white appeared and worsened, the tears stretching across the space. As the white torn away, a black nothingness peeked through, sucking in all the racing thoughts and fading memories.

Percy thrashed in her bed, twitching and spazzing across the sheets. Her eyes fluttered as her head twisted left and right in unnatural ways, just short of breaking her own neck. One arm thrust out without warning towards the direction of the wall. Not conscious and losing control of her body’s movement, the arm did not stop in its course and hit the wall with full force. The sound of cracking bone was deafening in the Sea God’s cabin. No shriek, whine, or even wince followed the action, with Percy only continuing in her spasms with an arm now swinging around at awkward angles. A leg soon followed and the sound of bone breaking sounded a second time.

In the depths of her mind, the consuming darkness had rid of most of the thoughts and memories, leaving the mindscape as void and damaged as ancient ruins. When the darkness had consumed seemingly everything, a light shone through the void, bright and blinding. It was a memory, one that was stubborn and refused to be destroyed. It was Percy trying to hold on to the last remains of her mind, her precious memory. As the darkness surrounded the memory like smoke, it played vibrant and loud…

_A knock resounded through the quiet apartment, shocking Percy out of focus, allowing her character to be killed in the video game before her. Looking back at the screen, she whimpered, “Delta, no!” she watched as the color came back to the screen and she was left a few steps away from where she died. Percy sighed and paused the game, picking up her blanket and wrapping it around her. She wondered who would even want to knock at her door; not realizing that to knock on her door, the visitor would have had to be buzzed in or broke into the building. In her tired and lazy state, it never crossed her mind._

_Yawning, Percy looked through the peephole, not giving much thought to who would be there. Only to jump back as she recognized her visitor. She backed away from the door slowly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth and quiet any sounds she might make in her surprise. A few feet from the door, she reached down for Riptide only to realize, her pajama shorts did not have shorts._ Damn women’s clothes!

_“I know you’re there, Percy…,” the person behind the door called out, just loud enough to be heard through the door, yet it still sounded like a whisper, “I’m not gonna hurt you…I swear it…I honestly don’t think I can…”_

_Percy choked on a gasp. She had not seen him since the Battle of the Labyrinth. Then, she did not really have the time to process or even feel emotions regarding him. Even in the Labyrinth, she was more focused on surviving the next obstacle and saving camp. Well, that was most of her interactions with him since after her first summer at camp. But now that all that stood between them was her front door, and there were no monsters around – that she could see through the peephole, at least – it left just him and her. And her thoughts. If she did not run a blade through him soon, her feelings were going to get in the way. Seeing as the last time that happened, a fatally poisonous scorpion stung her; it would be wise to avoid that._

_“Please, Perce…I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not going to harm you in anyway…not as long as I’m in control…” the voice continued on, the voice firm yet soft. He was determined to reassure her, which was obvious. It was slightly working. She had not heard him speak to her like that since last year, in March… It was about three months after he had fought against her, Annabeth, and the Hunters of Artemis on top of Mount Tamalpais. Or should she refer to it as Mount Othrys? The Titans, or their allies, do reside there now._

Stop it, Percy! Focus!

 _This is her enemy! And he made sure of that when he happily sat back and watched her fight for your life in the Labyrinth. All his promises and he goes and betrays her in the worse way. But those promises, they were said with so much passion, in the gentlest of tones. Her heart swoons at the memory of his touch, of his sweet words, and of his_ indifference when your life was seriously in danger! _Percy shook her head and quietly made her way into her room, searching for Riptide, maybe a javelin or two. Anything to fight him off._

 _It took a short while to find Riptide (_ Why’d I put it in _that_ bag? _) but hopefully not long enough for him to notice her absence. So imagine her surprise when she turned around to exit her room only to find Luke Castellan himself in the doorway to her bedroom. He looked sheepish as he held up a lock pick._

_“Son of Hermes, couldn’t help myself.” He walked over and sat on her bed, half making himself at home, half-hesitant. Percy could only glare at him, pulling her blanket tighter around her. He had seen enough of her last time; her current pajamas would surely show more than he would ever deserve to see._

_“I’m shocked you’re acknowledging it…What are you doing here, Luke?”_

_“That’s a big word, Percy. ‘Acknowledging’! When’d you learn that one?” he shot her a smirk, yet his eyes were softened in comparison. Percy did not let that stop her from uncapping Riptide and holding it up to his throat. He barely flinched, which made her wonder why he would be so confident. Was he confident he could defeat her in battle, or that she would not actually kill him? She was not sure she wanted to know which._

_“Annabeth’s got me reading dictionaries,” Percy retorted sarcastically, giving him a mock grin, before the expression fell and she was stuck with something between furious and heartbroken, “Why are you here, Luke?”_

_Ignoring the sword at his throat in a way that sent a sharp chill down her spine, Luke licked his bottom lip as he looked down at his hands, “‘Cause I can’t do this anymore, Percy…I used to be so sure that what I wanted was right. That my way was the only way for us,” he looked back up at her, with hard blue eyes, “I started doubting myself back when I tricked Annabeth into holding up the sky…the look on her face is something I’ll never forget. She was like a little sister to me, and I caused that look to appear on my little sister’s face. But I was too proud then, too stubborn._

_“When I had to sit back and watch as you fought Antaeus, my heart nearly stopped…Not that you’d notice; I have an excellent poker face,” He smirked but then frowned and bowed his head as Percy just glared down at him, “Um, yes…I wanted to stop back then. Despite knowing what was going to happen to me, I wanted to stop. I didn’t, obviously, but only because there was no turning back. Even before Ethan joined us, I was connected to Kronos in ways that still give me nightmares…so I just,_ let it happen _,” he rolled his eyes with a sullen smile. His eyes flashed gold for a second, one in which Percy’s heart skipped a beat as she pressed the blade closer against his throat, the tip just barely digging in. Luke clenched his fists and trembled, shaking his head, before his eyes changed back to their original blue. None of them paid mind to the slight trickle of red that slid down his neck. Not a second later, those blue eyes filled with rage._

_“Gods dammit! I want this to stop, Percy! I don’t want to do this anymore, to be his slave. All I wanted was for the Gods to finally have consequences to their actions, for demigods to be recognized as more than just chess pieces to move around on this board they so laughingly call life. And what do I get…I get roped into being Kronos’ queen, or rook at least, in his own twisted game of chess. The kicker? It was no more an important role than a pawn. I was nothing. And for what? Seeing fellow demigods drop like flies as the Gods try to remedy the situation in their own fucked way, not that they didn’t complain and demand the whole way….the Gods can have it their way, I won’t stop them anymore. I just want to be free now. To not have to find out when I wake up out of Kronos’ control, that a demigod fell to my blade, that an innocent monster was mercilessly slayed by my hand. I don’t want to be a pawn, rook, or queen, or even king. I just want it all to stop,” his voice hitched, his eyes watered. Percy was fighting against dropping her sword and hugging him to death._

_In that moment, he was the happy and passionate nineteen-year-old camp counselor that Percy met all those years ago. He was the charming older boy that had the honor to be her first kiss. He was the unwilling warrior that hesitated in springing a scorpion on her long enough that he almost lost his chance. He was Luke Castellan, Son of Hermes. None of that ‘Kronos’ crap mattered in that moment._

_“You really gotten stop with the chess references,” Percy bit her lip, loosening her grip on Riptide, “I ain’t no Annabeth.” She gave him a weak smile._

_Luke looked up at her again, and in motions so slow, it was like he was trying to avoid startling a frightened animal, he reached up and pushed the sword aside. Percy let it drop from her hands, the clang of it hitting the ground the only sound in the room as Luke took her face gently in his hands and stood. She barely registered how close his face was becoming until his lips touched hers and her eyes slid shut._

_The kiss was chaste and sweet, just like their first. Percy remembers how flustered she had been. She was only twelve, and there was this boy seven years her senior, that liked her. All those beautiful girls in camp, and he chose the short twelve-year-old girl with crooked teeth and black hair cut to the nape of her neck, easily mistaken as a boy at times. Now was no different, even if she considered herself more attractive now. She had gotten braces not long after returning from the sea of monsters, and grown out her hair after being mistaken as a boy – and subsequently discriminated against – by the Hunters of Artemis, with Artemis herself not up to correcting them._

_They pulled apart after a few seconds, though it felt longer to her. Percy left her eyes closed, not wanting to look into his eyes and accept that she let him touch her so intimately again. If she kept her eyes closed, maybe she could deal with the actions she wanted to partake in with him. She could pretend he was not there, that the feelings and pleasure she would feel were self-stimulated._

_Her mind was telling her he was the enemy. To knee his crotch, strike him across the head with her elbow, and kick out his knee as she reached down for her downed sword; it was not sure what she should do after she had it though…_

_Her heart was telling her he broke her heart. To slap him across the face, scream and rant about how he could not just show up after teasing her, leaving her, and then betraying her, just to apologize and start all over again. Then do it again and again (and again)._

_Her body was telling her he was an attractive man who not only liked her, but who she liked_ very much _. To jump him like he was her life force and skin-to-skin contact with him would result in effects equivalent to that of the Fountain of Youth._

_It was like a three-way war taking place inside her body, pulling her this way and that. And as Luke caressed her sides and kissed along her neck, she could only moan in her world of darkness. She could not see him, but she could most certainly feel him. Feel him pull her close and into his arms. Feel him grind against her bottom half. Feel him harden and press on her stomach._

_War or not, her body was sneaking around the duel between her mind and heart, and she found herself responding to his touches. She wrapped her arms around him, undid his jeans, and held him in her grasp. Soon they were falling onto her bed, practically ripping each others’ clothes off, and rubbing against each other like rabbits in heat._

_Half way through the act, her heart took over. The fiction of his thrusts and the pressure of his body weight could not stop her from feeling worthless. Was this all he was here for? Would he leave after he had his way? How was he planning to work out the problem that he was the figurehead of an army that wanted her head on a spike? And yes, figurehead. He lost the rights to leadership when he loaned his body to Kronos. Oh gods! She was gonna throw up!_

_Kronos is in Luke’s body!_

_Her train of thought swerved so off its course with his new angle that it might as well forget about reaching its destination in the next millennia. Luke pounded down against her body, using his new position to distract her as he gently wiped away her tears. Tears she never realized she shed. But she was glad she did. As willingly as her body might have been, she wanted him to know that she did not accept him with all her being. That she still saw him as the worse of scum on earth. That she could hold a place in her heart for him, but that place was shattered beyond belief, held together by shear faith._

_And it was with that thought that she wrapped her legs around his waist, grasped his hair in a tight grip, and held his head up to look into her now opened eyes. The sea green pools were raging with love and hate, hope and defeat. Neither halted in their movements as they stared each other down, Luke in challenge and Percy in determination. As her orgasm approached, Percy pulled back roughly on his hair, almost snapping his head back and gritted her teeth._

_“I fucking hate you, Luke Castellan!” she hissed through her teeth before groaning as her body arched, her fingers and toes clenching, facial expression something between pure bliss and utter torture. Luke only watches on as the girl he loves loses all control, the image of her beautiful green eyes burning with hate imprinted in his mind. Feeling her tighten around him, the sight before him, and the anger in her expression just moments before, it was just enough to send him over the edge._

_Percy felt more tears roll down the side of her face as she laid on her side, Luke pressed along the length of her back, half an hour after they had both regained their breaths and control over their senses. They had laid there; bare as the days they were born, coated in a layer of sweat. Tear tracks stained Percy’s cheeks, both from the emotions that warred within her and from the pain she had started to feel soon after the pleasure had subsided. None of them knew what to say, if they should say anything. Nonetheless, they both knew that they needed to, that something needed to be said and their situation had to be brought to light. They could not very well pretend what happened, never did. Percy decided she would break the silence…_

_“We can’t do this…,” she whispered, her voice piercing through the faux calm. She reached down to grip the hand resting on her abdomen, “I might be a child of the Big Three, of the prophecy, but I don’t have the power to help you, Luke.”_

_The hand squeezed back and an audible sigh accompanied the puff of hot air against the back of her neck. The silence pressed on a little longer._

_“A guy can try, right?” a humorless laugh huffed on her skin and Percy closed her eyes, “I can want this, this right here,” he tightened his grip around her waist, “But I’ve made my mistakes and can’t turn back. I think I already knew that even before I decided to come here…didn’t stop me from trying._

_“I just knew that I needed to be with you, Percy. If only to have you shout in my face and slap me to your heart’s content. I just needed a familiar face for the little break I’m getting from Kronos. I wanted a moment to be myself with someone who wouldn’t be afraid to tell me straight how stupid I am, how stupid I was,” a kiss was pressed against her skin and Percy sighed. She caressed the hand in hers in gentle encouragement, “You’re not the only one I came to for help. You’re just my last stop because your reaction was the one I kind of dreaded the most. I care about a lot of people who are going to fight against me in the war…Annabeth, Thalia, Grover…you. Annabeth was conflicted but pushed me away; I don’t blame her. Thalia is a lost cause; she probably hates my guts to the point that she wouldn’t hesitate to rip them out. Grover would just ignore me to find help, if I could even find him. You, though…you’re unpredictable, Percy.”_

_“My dad says it’s the nature of the sea. It could be calm one second, raging the next…” she pulled the hand in hers up to her lips, pressing a sweet kiss to the fingers before intertwining them with her own. A smile could be felt against her neck._

_“Just like the sea indeed…I should go…”_

_“Yeah, my mom should be here soon…”_

_The silence became awkward as it continued on. Eventually Percy sat up, ignoring Luke’s gaze as she picked up her clothes and pulled them on. Soon she picked up the forgotten blanket and pulled that around her as well. Now that the moment was over, it felt weird to be seen in the nude by him. She stood there, twirling Riptide in her hands, which she had picked up with her blanket, not looking his way. She could hear him getting dressed behind her, painfully slow. He wanted to prolong the inevitable. Deep down, she wanted to as well._

_Then he was standing before her, hands shoved in his pockets, chewing at his bottom lip. His sandy blonde hair was in disarray and his clothes, though carefully pulled on, were somehow rumpled. A light flush colored his healthy cheeks. That was one positive from Kronos’ possession. He looked so sickly before he started preparing to become Kronos’ host. It was somewhat nice to see the healthy glow in him again. Even his scar did not look so bad._

_“Well this is goodbye, until we see each other again…on the battlefield…” he rolled his eyes good-naturedly and Percy couldn’t help but smirk, “Can’t promise I won’t maim you. You know, Kronos’ host and all…”_

_“Can’t promise I won’t stay my blade.” She joined in his solemn farewell._

_“You’ve been playing too much Ass Creed, Persephone Jackson.” He smirked as he made his way out her bedroom door._

_“Surprised you even know about that game, Luke Castellan.” She playfully shoved him as she followed him to her front door._

_“You’d be surprised…” Luke softly smiled as he pulled the door open and looked her straight in the eye, “Goodbye Percy.” She did not get to respond as he left, closing the door behind him._

_The memory began to darken along the edges as the Percy in the memory leaned against the door, showing a watery smile._ The black started to consume the memory the way it had consumed everything. And while her mind slowly became a void of nothing, Percy’s body suffered.

Through the reliving of her last remaining memory, her body experienced the emotions she had gone through in that moment. It tensed when she had tensed, relaxed when she had relaxed, and felt pleasure when she had felt pleasure. All while her eyes remained shut tight and her broken limbs swung around without control. Now, as the last piece that made up her mind was slowly wasting away, her body jerked and twitched violently as if she were having a seizure. Her eyelids fluttering, her eyes rolled back into her head, heartbeat an impossibly pounding rhythm.

Her body temperature rose to levels that could end in nothing but death. As the blackness obscured the smiling face of the Percy in the memory, warm blood oozed out of Percy’s ears, trickled from her nose, and flowed from her mouth and eyes. As her mind seized to exist, her body arched over the bed unnaturally and contorted into uncomfortable positions. With a final gasp and blood spurting cough, Percy’s body slammed down onto her bed, bouncing lifelessly on the mattress for a few unnerving seconds.

The barely audible beat of her heart stopped…

**⁞™Ω…№②…Ω™⁞**

A large widespread grin of blood-stained human-like teeth emerged from the dark of the void that was the remains of Persephone Jackson’s mind. In a whimsical and eerie gold shimmer, the rest of the smile’s form materialized. An emaciated and long limbed cat. Tattoos riddled the visible ribcage and thin legs, all the way up and around the head of grey, in an intricate tribal marking imitation. A long and boney tail swished to and fro along a nonexistent ground, while torn and pierced ears twitched in uncertainty. The nervous and irritable body language contrasted against the wide grin.

With one more twitch of its ears, the cat’s glowing yellow eyes slowly opened. In a few tense motions, the cat assessed its surroundings, as the darkness seemed to rumble under his sharply clawed paws. As it observed its sad new home, color began to bleed into the black; a somber rainbow plastered all around. The hues swirled and danced in the virtually lifeless mindscape, and random objects – spinning shields, glinting coins, winged shoes, bowls of blazing green flames – surfaced out of the colors, floating along without a care.

The cat raised a brow in contemplation, its grin never wavering.

“A new beginning, it seems, to an indeterminate end,” it purred in a harsh, derisive tone, voice a resonating timbre that was pleasant to the ears, “From the looks of things, not quite that of one I’m willing to participate in. Alice is gone but a new soul emerges…Girl, what have you done?”

**⁞™Ω…№②…Ω™⁞**

Once sea green eyes snapped open to reveal only black, webbed with veins out of the faded reddish edges of the eyes. The white of the original eyes peeked from behind the dark film. Though dead, the demon-like eyes stared intensely into the dark as the skin around it – which had started to cool and pale with death – turned a sickly white as dark veins branched out from the eyes and mouth. The color around her seemed to seep out of the very fabric and wood of the furniture, leaving everything in a two-meter radius a gloomy grayscale. It was a disturbing sight.

Just as quickly as they appeared, the veins faded back into the skin and the black fog cleared to reveal glazed sea green eyes. Color slowly returned to the world around the body and to cold cheeks, and the beat of a restarting heart was somehow deafening in the silence. The body gave a sharp gasp before releasing an agonizing scream.

“ _AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_ ”

 

“ _Every adventure requires a first step. Trite, but true, even here_.” – Cheshire Cat,  American McGee’s Alice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: June 13, 2015  
> Recently Revised:  
> Notes:  
> ~ I’m Lazy – I never got around to reading House of Hades or Blood of Olympus. I know, I know, “WTF JOLLY!” yeah, well, screw it. I haven’t sat down and read a book since 2013. I’m even irritated with myself. So I’m using limited information about the books’ plots to write this. If the ending of the Giant War isn’t accurate, well at least I was vague. I’m also killing off more characters because Rick didn’t kill enough main characters to satisfy me. Characters that I’ve killed off will be mentioned in the next chapter or so.  
> IF THERE IS ANOTHER "NOTES" SECTION UNDER THIS, I DON'T KNOW WHY. JUST IGNORE IT IF YOU SEE IT! IT'S THE UNWANTED CHILD THAT MUST BE ABANDONED!


	3. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Examples of: brief mention of rape and murder. Like very, very brief WARNING!

“ _AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_ ”

Annabeth bolted up in bed, the scream shocking her heart into a harsh rhythm. It only took seconds for her to find her bearings and scramble out of bed and into some sandals. All around her, her half-siblings woke in different forms of disarray, some with rumpled clothes, some with bedhead, and some with partners rising up beside them. Annabeth decided to ignore that in favor of discovering the source of the scream.

She made her way outside, resisting the urge to wince at the loud shriek coming from across the camp green. As she ran across the courtyard, she noticed that the pitch and volume of the scream did not waver. It was static…and that’s what made it eerie.

By the time she was by the male Olympian cabins, a sense of dread had overcome her. She had a bad feeling about that scream, and not just because of how it sounded. And that feeling left her heart aching as she and all her fellow disturbed demigods located the source of the scream.

Poseidon’s Cabin.

“Percy…. _Percy_!” though the scream remained the same, it somehow sounded so much worst now. She knew something was wrong back when Percy left the amphitheater. However, she had dismissed her concern when she had checked on her earlier in the evening, and Percy was peacefully sleeping in her bed. It never occurred to her that something would happen in the night, since Percy looked knocked out. She hoped Percy was okay, then they could laugh about how she was wrong for once.

Fellow campers crowded around the camp green, some brave enough to near Cabin 3. Annabeth saw Jason, Clarisse, and Will were by the door. As she came in behind them, she found Clarisse and Jason gently holding Percy’s body down as Will examined her mysterious injuries. The screaming was almost unbearable in here, but they all seemed to be dealing. At first glance, Annabeth could see that Percy’s arm and leg were broken. Her face was red with the strain of her screaming, with streaks of dark crimson running down from her mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. Her bed was soaked through with blood from the bones of her broken limbs that had torn through the skin.

Frozen in horror, Annabeth could feel the incoming tears as her eyes took in the scene. Her best friend, her sister in all but blood, was practically dying in the night, as she was peacefully sleeping away. She thought Percy would be fine, that she would check on her in the morning and everything would be all right. Instead, it was like she had been attacked and no one had been aware. If Percy hadn’t screamed, no one would have come…

“Percy…” Annabeth whispered to herself as she made her way to the bed, beside Percy’s head. She kneeled down and reached out to touch Percy’s face, feeling the strain in her muscles as the scream failed to falter, “Percy. Look at me. Look at me, Percy!” Annabeth raised her voice to speak in a stern tone. Percy didn’t even flinch, her eyes remained shut and her body almost completely motionless. The only sign of life was her screaming, for nothing twitched or jerked in her agony. Annabeth whimpered as she watched Will set her bones without any reaction from the daughter of Poseidon’s practically comatose body. Even Clarisse looked alarmed at the lack of response.

By the time Will had most of the damage repaired, dozens of campers were peeking in through the doorway and windows, trying to get a glimpse of the scene taking place in Cabin 3. Annabeth was almost tempted to shout at them to stop staring and get help or something. In the few moments that she debated the consequences of shouting or keeping shut, she glimpsed Grover out of the corner of her eye pushing his way through the crowd. She couldn’t reason why he’d be there, but she wasn’t going to question it now.

“Grover!” she called out, reluctantly stepping away from Percy’s side to pull the satyr through the tight pack of demigods and into the cabin, making sure to close the door behind him. Hopefully that will send the message without locking out anyone that would actually offer help.

“What’s happening? Is Percy okay?” Grover asked, his brown eyes sneaking glances at Percy’s still screaming form, but trying to keep his focus on Annabeth. _I wish I knew…_ Annabeth thought to herself, also sneaking a quick look.

“We don’t know. We just heard yelling and came over to find her screaming her lungs out with broken bones, not even flinching!” she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to sit him down next to Percy on the bed, Will having stepped aside once he had done what he could. Clarisse and Jason had also moved over to just stand by the bed, no longer holding her body down now that it seemed unnecessary, “If she goes on like this, she’ll tear her vocal cords. Not even taking into account what put her in this state…do you know what’s going on in there? You two still have your empathy link, right?” Annabeth felt like she was begging. Maybe she was, and she couldn’t find it in herself to feel ashamed.

If she was worried before, the look on Grover's face only achieved to make her concern that much worse. Something was seriously wrong, and Grover's expression said it all. Whether he had felt what he did as it happened, or now as he focused on the link, it wasn't pretty. He looked horrified.

"There's a block around her mind, but it seems fragile. Nothing like when Hera took her...I can see into her mind randomly at short intervals..." His face was concentrated, but there was that sense of horror still noticeable beyond the focused stare, "Her mind, it's like it's not there. Once the block is broken enough to breach, there's a swirling mess of nothing...then bright yellow eyes and I'm locked out again. If not for the eyes, I would think she was brain dead." He finished, taking Percy's hand into his own, his eyes going out of focus occasionally as he sat beside her.

As minutes went by, the group of four demigods and a satyr sat in Cabin 3, listening to the anguished screams of their friend continue on as it became hoarse and rough. If she didn't stop soon, her vocal cords will become permanently damaged. It was as she heard the campers outside call out to Chiron and lead him over that something crossed Annabeth's mind. She could slap herself for not bringing it up earlier, but she guessed she could pass it off as being too worried to think straight.

"Wait...yellow eyes? Why would yellow eyes be in Percy's mind? Could it be an effect of Kronos using his powers on her, or invading her mind through dreams?" Annabeth's couldn't help asking, despite being pretty sure that wasn't the case. But there was one instance in which it could be possible, but she couldn't express her thoughts on it. It would be like a betrayal of Percy's trust in her. But all bases had to be checked.

"It's possible but I doubt it. If it is Kronos, he waited a pretty long time to do this. He had plenty of opportunities to mess with her in ways that could doom us all. Like during the war, either in Tartarus or on the battlefield." Grover deduced. Annabeth had the urge to smile with pride at her longtime friend. In that moment, it was like they'd switched places, with Annabeth worrying over the situation and Grover taking control with reasonable logic and common sense. And he did a great job of it.

"I guess you're right, but when we can, I suggest we still check it. If only to be sure, since it could have been that he was still weak from the last war to do anything until now. Never know." Annabeth turned to the door just as Chiron was making his way in and Percy finally stopped screaming, "What? Why'd she stop? Chiron, you have to see what's wrong."

Chiron only nodded as he walked up to the now quiet and still form of the daughter of Poseidon. The only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of her chest. At least she was still alive.

Chiron kneeled down low enough to properly check over Percy's form, examining her half healed arm and leg, the blood on her face. "Excellent work, Will, on healing her limbs." He looked to the son of Apollo with a strained expression on his face. With a smile as a response, he turned back to Percy, pulling a flask of nectar out from a pack at his waist. Pouring just the right amount, to both finish healing her bones and to undo any damage to her vocal cords, Chiron stood up straight. Taking a second glance at Percy, Chiron gave a sad sigh. "It must be night terrors of the war. I'll see if Mr. D will be willing to give her a look over. He'll need the practice, for I'm sure Percy will not be the last victim of stress-fueled dreams." Sending everyone a sympathetic nod, Chiron made his way out and towards the Blue House, hopefully to get Dionysus on board.

For the next hour, they all sat around Percy as her breathing returned to normal, as her limbs and vocal cords repaired themselves. Despite their attempts to make her stir, she didn't budge. It was like she had fallen into a coma. Waiting for Dionysus wasn't helping their frustration with the situation.

"What has Penny done now?" A voice practically drowning in sarcasm and irritation sounded through the cabin as the stout form of Dionysus - God of Wine, Madness, and other things - walked in. There was a collective sigh all around.

"Would you please just check her over, Mr. D?" Annabeth asked, not in the mood for a centuries old deity who likes to pretend he doesn't know anyone's names. The longer her best friend stayed unconscious, the more stressed and unsettled she became. She wanted something done, and something done now. The frustration that came with the knowledge that there was nothing she could do, was not one she ever wanted to experience again.

“Don’t get your toga in a twist, Annabelle. These things take time.” Dionysus walked up to the prone body surrounded by the other campers, ignoring their stares and exasperated expressions. Sitting at her bedside, the god gently laid his hand over Percy’s forehead, his purple eyes glowing with power. Everyone sat in silence as Dionysus scanned through Percy’s mind and hoped to discover her ailment. Surprisingly, this did not take long.

“I believe I know what has happened to her mind. It is not the first time I’ve seen this, though this is not quite as natural,” Mr. D declared before removing his hand from Percy’s forehead. Thankfully Percy looked more animated now, her eyes actually moving under her eyelids. Though not a certain sign that she was fully recovered, it showed that she was improving if only the tiniest bit. A chair blinked into existence and Dionysus took a seat, relaxing back and getting himself comfortable, paying no mind to the impatient demigods waiting for him to elaborate.

Feeling very out of her element, Annabeth could not seem to control her emotions in this tense moment. She had only felt this way a handful of times, each situation worsening as she grew into the young woman she is today. And so she would later blame her outburst on those experiences weakening her control.

“Would you _please_ get on with it?! That is my best friend lying there, and I would like to know what’s wrong with her, _this century_ if you will.” The sudden release of her anger and frustration left Annabeth panting in the aftermath of her short-lived tantrum. She found herself already mentally scolding herself for the outburst, though she also felt it was necessary. Mr. D didn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation. Something was wrong with one of the most powerful demigods in existence today, and she could be suffering under Kronos’ influence or worse! And above all else, she was Annabeth’s honorary sister and Annabeth was worried to the point of ignoring all logic.

Seeming to understand her concern, Dionysus didn’t react to her show of disrespect – though she’d startled the others in the cabin – and simply decided to explain himself before the usually composed demigoddess lost all restraint, “I’ve only seen this in one other person in all my years, and back then I never had a chance to study such a condition up close. What young Penny is experiencing is the awakening of a dormant ability. She most definitely had to have inherited this ability from the very other person I mentioned. If so, this is but a delayed condition stemming from being my legacy.”

It took a moment for the others in the room to process his words. Though he did not explain what ailed Persephone, _per se_ , he did reveal something completely out of left field. Percy, a legacy of Dionysus?

"Who was this other person?" Jason stepped in, hoping to keep Annabeth calm by quickly seeking the answers to all their questions.

"You know her as Alice Liddell, the subject of the many movies based off the infamous 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' novel by Lewis Carroll," Dionysus went on explaining, not noticing the expression of suspicious disbelief, "The real Alice, the basis for Carroll's novel, was my legacy and youngest daughter of my demigod son, Arthur Liddell. Her name was Alice Pleasance Liddell, and she was admitted to Rutledge Asylum at the tender age of eight after her whole family died in a fire and she lost touch with reality. Without her father present to assist her in controlling her powers, which were great, they began to consume her.”

Trying to ignore the fact that a novel that has been speculated to reference drugs, hallucinations, insanity, and somehow math – by a man rumored to be a pedophile – was based off a Greek legacy, Annabeth tried to question other aspects of this story, “Her powers? What powers did she have?”

“As you should all know,” Dionysus casually caught all of their eyes with a sharp gaze before continuing, “I am the God of the Vine, Grape Harvest, Winemaking, Wine, Ritual Madness, Religious Ecstasy, and Theatre. Unfortunately, Arthur seemed to only inherit powers in respect to my domain over Madness. He had the slightest of influence over my other domains, though not as potent enough to be of much importance. If fact, when he discovered he was a demigod, and decided to spend his summers here, he only ever tried to develop his powers over the mind, seeing as too much effort was needed to produce any effects with my other domains. And so he became a clinical psychologist, using his powers to better the lives of those burdened with mental and behavioral disorders—”

As Mr. D continued to speak, the demigods in the room were taken off guard by his tone and way of speaking. One could almost say he took on the role of educator with the way he explained the history behind Percy’s condition, speaking with no sarcasm or negative intent. It was almost a new side to their scornful director, one that somehow made them uncomfortable.

“When his first daughter, Elizabeth, was born, she failed to show signs of the mental maturity needed to manipulate the mind. By the age of sixteen, she showed promise in Wine, Theatre, and Ecstasy. She was known to point out the best of savory wines with but a sip, was quite the little actress and performer, and instilled desire and envy in others. It was her meager power over ecstasy that became her downfall. She unwillingly attracted the attention of a man by the name of Angus Bumby, who ended up raping and killing her when she was only eighteen years of age,” he paused for effect and so the information could be processed, “Alice however, showed great promise of being a powerful legacy, possibly more powerful than her father. In fact, she did become more powerful than her father.

“She, to this day, is the most powerful of my mortal descendants, if only in matters of the mind. Arthur was just beginning to help her try to organize her mind, and the hallucinations that sprung forth in her line of sight, invisible to those around her. It was almost like when a child has an imaginary friend, but more intense, more real. Her training was never completed, her family dying before she could gain a hold of her powers, and the resulting grief negated all progress she had made. She retreated into the fantasy world she made of her own mind, making it distinctively different from any other mindscape in existence. Yes gods, monsters, and even demigods have unique mindscapes in comparison to the average human mind; but hers was something so original, so new, it was an oddity. Her mindscape _became_ Wonderland.”

Taking a moment to process that this girl apparently made her mind into a whole new world, Annabeth couldn’t help but be impressed. Even if her mind were to be chaotic in its structure and function, it would no doubt be the ultimate defense from attacks to the mind. Yet in contradiction, it would be easy to invade, if one were to dare.

“So you believe Percy is possibly related to this Alice?” Jason asked, bringing up an earlier topic that Dionysus had glossed over.

“No,” Mr. D stated, staring intensely at Percy’s prone form on the bed. He studied the blood stains streaking across her face, the tensed yet calm expression she held in her sleep. “I’m quite certain that she is.”

“So Percy’s mind…” Annabeth trailed off, processing that fact.

“Is becoming a Wonderland as we speak.”

**⁞™Ω…№③…Ω™⁞**

Under Dionysus’ orders, Percy was moved from her cabin to the infirmary. She was to be under observation 24/7, with someone always watching over her. Different senior campers would watch her in a scheduled rotation as her mind continued to develop, collapse, and redevelop repeatedly. Mr. D made a rough estimate that she would recover within the week, for although having a Wonderland for a mind is challenging and the development would be time consuming, it should develop in due time as she is in a coma and her mind is only working on developing the new mindscape.

Though reassured of Percy’s recovery, Annabeth and Grover couldn’t help the feeling that everything was not as it seemed, even beyond their understanding of the truth of Wonderland. Their doubt did not go unwarranted.

After the first week had passed, many were disappointed when Percy did not wake or show any signs of awakening. Despite being wrong about the length of her coma, Dionysus continued to reassure that there could be a possibility that Percy’s mind could simply be resting.

Annabeth, not satisfied with Mr. D’s soothing words, began to research what she could on mortal descendants of Dionysus through the years and the case of this Alice Liddell. Though many of his mortal children had abilities in madness, it was more in the favor of curing or seeding madness into the minds of other mortals and also immortals and monsters with minds pliable enough to manipulate into chaos. There was rarely any madness present in his descendants that went any further than common mental illness. Alice Liddell was a special case in which her ability over madness reached past her own mind.

Any recorded documents on Alice’s stay in Rutledge were sparse and imprecise. What she could make out was that Alice had been in and out of deep sleep for the majority of her adolescence, waking at times to startle anyone who came upon her for her eyes appeared to glow for seconds at a time. This was always dismissed soon after mentioned, suggesting that it could have been just a trick of the light, though Annabeth suspected the Mist at work. In times of consciousness, Alice would appear to not recognize the medical personnel around her, or even people linked to her childhood; sometimes she would not even acknowledge their presence, talking to herself, in her own little world.

Then one day, she just up and woke up, fully functional, and the asylum doctors had no reason to keep her much longer after she displayed such miraculous recovery. After that, the only documents Annabeth could find were some old news articles telling of Alice’s psychiatrist, Dr. Angus Bumby’s, demise. Of Alice’s victory in court in which she regained ownership of her family’s belongings. And later her marriage to her lawyer.

Based off Alice’s medical history, one could understand why Annabeth began to panic as Percy’s coma lasted past a second week.

Her condition was lasting past the estimated single week, and even Dionysus was beginning to wonder what could have gone wrong. Annabeth was starting to worry that this coma could last almost as long as Alice’s, though hopefully only a year if it must last much longer.

As the third week passed, panic was starting to settle into the campers. Percy showed no signs of waking up from her coma, her breathing the only thing that proved she was even still alive. Asclepius, Hygieia, Iaso, and seasoned Apollo campers worked 24/7 to keep her health stable, feed her through mundane hospital tubes, and care for her as any comatose (or similar) patient would be cared for. Pollux, as the only current Dionysus camper, was brought in at least once a day to check on her mental state as Mr. D himself had left for Olympus. Many hoped it was to converse with Apollo and other gods and goddesses that specialized in healing or the mind.

If that were not enough of an issue for the campers of Camp Half-Blood, those who had connections with campers and citizens of Camp Jupiter and New Rome were receiving quite the shock as well. Not only were some survivors of the war suffering from severe PTSD, there were those who also had to deal with survivor’s guilt. Though not a surprise to Camp Half-Blood, as one or both also effected many Greek demigods, it was news of Praetor Frank’s fall into depression that had many worried for their friends. The living members of the Seven were sure the reason was the death of his late girlfriend, Hazel Levesque.

As the fourth week of Percy’s coma began, she gained a companion in the infirmary. Sometime after the war ended, the son of Hades, Nico di Angelo, had disappeared in the wake of his new sister’s death.

Some guessed he had left for the Underworld to grieve in relative peace. Others believed he was simply wandering, lost in sadness and emotional pain, lost to the world around him. A few closed-minded campers couldn’t give a damn what he was up to. Annabeth guessed that if Percy were conscious, she would be on top of those who looked down on Nico for being a son of Hades. Thankfully Jason and Will were amazing substitutes.

So imagine their surprise when that very son of Hades had collapsed just outside the borders, alerting Peleus who then in turn alerted nearby campers. He was brought into the infirmary, placed in the bed beside Percy, and soon hooked up to similar equipment. Now Will and his crew of amateur and veteran camp healers had two patients to care for. Though Will didn’t seem burdened by the extra work, if his willingness to treat Nico was any indication.

And so Annabeth, Grover, and the whole of Camp Half-Blood readied themselves for another stressful week. Possibly another stressful month.

 

_"With great power comes great need to take a nap."_ \- Nico di Angelo,  Percy Jackson and the Olympians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: September 6, 2016
> 
> Recently Revised:
> 
> Notes:
> 
> ~ Fanfiction and Mythology – Some of what is mentioned in Annabeth’s thoughts in the second part to this about Alice’s life comes from the fanfiction mentioned in the unofficial 1st chapter and some tweaks to it on my part. If you don’t want to read the fanfiction, basically it’s implying that Alice’s powers work beyond Wonderland and the Cheshire Cat can exist in the real world, taking on the form of Kier Cheston (I need to recheck that…). As Kier, the Cat becomes Alice’s lawyer and gets her ownership of her family’s belongings again, and develops a kind of relationship with her. So if you’ve read what I typed in the 1st chapter (SPOILERS?), this means Alice marries the Cheshire Cat and Voldemort and Percy are descendants of a madwoman and a figment of her imagination….hell yeah! The mythology part of this note is just the little research I did on Dionysus and some Greek gods of healing. WHOO!


	4. Surreal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Examples of: slightly grotesque imagery and seizure like episodes...and rabbits (?) WARNING!

"Whatever happened to her physically is healed, as far as I can tell. Broken bones are mended, internal bleeding has stopped, heartrate is steady. In fact, there's not much we can do except wait for her to come out of this coma." Apollo (god of healing, medicine and plague) explained after his examination of the daughter of Poseidon's prone form.

She was coming into the fourth week of her coma, several campers had worked together to gather medical supplies to keep her stable and fed. She was hooked to a few different tubes and machines, some of which were suggested by Annabeth. On Athena councilor's orders, Persephone Jackson's brain was also included in what had to be on constant watch. Irregular brain activity was met with panicked friends rushing to see whether she would wake or tragically fade away.

Apollo was their last hope. And it did not look good.

"So what you're saying is we can only wait?" Annabeth could not believe what she was hearing. First Dionysus tells them she would wake within the week, only for three more to pass. Then Apollo himself tells them there is no physical reason for her prolonged coma, and there was little help Percy was going to get aside from simple observation.

"Yes. Whatever is keeping her in this coma won't let her out of it." Apollo sighed and nodded to Annabeth, walking by her to step outside, possibly to flash out away from the demigods. He stopped in his tracks and turned back to the blonde. "I know you want her awake and well, but you need to let this happen. I'm not completely sure what's happening, but I have this feeling that if you force her out, you won't like the results." He turned and left.

Annabeth groaned as she dropped back into the chair beside Percy's bed, throwing her head back to stare blankly at the ceiling. "Why does it always have to be you, Seaweed Brain?"

⁞™ **Ω…№④…Ω™⁞**

It started with her falling.

Most of her dreams ended with her falling.

It felt like falling off the St. Louis Arch all over again, but the fall was longer, further. She looked up and there was no end. She looked down and there was no end.

Then up.

Then down.

She kept twirling uncontrollably, her stare moving from above her to below her, and back again. It happened again and again until she could not figure out which way was up.

Random objects floated serenely in the cloud-like substance that surrounded her, a violet inner working of a tornado sans the violent winds. Antique and worn clocks, tea cups and tea kettles, broken candelabras, fancy chairs, and playing cards. Nothing of importance or sentiment to her.

Then her fall slowed, she ceased twirling, falling face down as colors shifted in the clouds around her. The longer she fell, the more the objects around her changed. Clocks into televisions, kettles into cherry cokes, cards into swords and daggers. Familiar, though that seemed to disturb her.

She tried to make sense of what was happening, but her thoughts could not develop past basic emotions and simple observation.

Closing her eyes, she hoped to wake up in her bed and from her endless fall. She failed. She was still falling and there looked to be no end. Looking down into the darkness below her as her surroundings changed again, from objects to thick vines and red eyed snakes. Two glowing yellow eyes greeted her from far into the dark.

⁞™ **Ω…№④…Ω™⁞**

With a jerk, a small frail body sat at attention, head bowed as hisses wrangled through a shriveled throat. Coughs racked through a weak chest, ribs straining through wrinkled grey skin.

 **:** _Massster?_ **:** a hiss sounded from the darkness as a long slim figure slithered across rough stone.

The fragile creature shivered in the aftermath of its mental shock. Memories and images coursed through its thoughts, memories of a beautiful young woman with long brown hair and two young men. Two men who looked familiar to the creature in disturbing ways. Images of a young woman swollen with child, staring off into the waves of a sea, sparkling ocean blue eyes reminding the creature of a pair of eyes it had seen time and time again. A little girl waddling along the sands of a warmly lit shore, face brightening at the sight of a crab scuttling by her feet. The blue eyed woman stood a few paces behind her, a soft smile on her face.

 **:** _Fallon…_ **:** the creature said, a snarl twisting its mouth into an ugly expression of disgust and rage. Eyebrows furled over where its nose should have been. Jagged teeth bared from behind cracked lips. **:** _That witch hid them from me…left me with no knowledge of them…_ **:**

A massive snake appeared over the back of a worn armchair, eyes peering down at the pathetic creature that laid in the seat, giving off an aura of confused anger. **:** _Them? Who iss them, Massster?_ **:**

 **:** _She hid….my sonss…from me…_ **:** the creature feels a tightness within its chest, one akin to the effects of overwhelming panic, yet he feels no alarm flare in his mind. There is no reason to feel dread or anxiety in relation to his discovery. His frail body should be racked with rage and loathing, overcome with bloodlust for his once companion, the woman he would dare admit to being the cause for him feeling an emotion he could almost compare to love. Impossible, of course. **:** _Leave me, Nagini._ **:** the fragile being hissed.

The large snake hesitated, its tongue peeking out for a tentative taste, before it slithered back off the armchair and out of the room, making sure to roam near the fire before its exit.

Now alone, the creature took to his own mind for deeper contemplation. The conflicting emotions controlling his being brought a sense of confusion over him. Jackson had disappeared over six decades ago, he had been in this body for some time now. Why the visions?

Why now?

Visions of descendants he never knew existed, assaulting him so suddenly without purpose or reason, by no work of his own. Nothing he had done could have brought this upon him, not to his knowledge.

But now that he was aware of his descendants, they were to soon be aware of him. Being of his blood, and of Fallon's wizarding pure blood, their magic should be immense. Teaching them his ways, gaining their trust, having them as allies. He could be unstoppable.

To have hid them from him for this long, Jackson had to have taken precautions to stop him from conducting a simple bloodline spell. Without her blood or at least the blood of one of his descendants, discovering their identities and finding their locations would be relatively impossible. In fact, a dark path might need to be taken to get results, and that was his expertise.

The creature smirked, its bony fingers curling slowly into a loose fist around the neck of a bottle. With a poorly hidden wince a thin arm raised the bottle, a feat only possible due to the bottle's almost lack of content. With the container so empty, the creature was able to lift the bottle to his lips and sip a little of what was left of the liquid inside. With a grunt the arm dropped down, taking the bottle with it, an ounce left of the liquid sloshed inside.

In the wake of his discovery, the creature sat and contemplated different alternatives to common bloodline spells and rituals. Any that seemed too simple or easily researched were cast aside to the back of his mind. Jackson would have figured he would eventually find a way to unearth her secrets and set out to find their sons. Though not as well versed in the dark arts, she was intelligent and resourceful, making it almost certain that he would have to find the most obscure spells to track them down.

The appearance of his short trembling servant alerted the creature to how much time had passed during his pondering on the topic of his sons. The fire in the grate had died down some, but still burned bright. Though the distance from it had caused a chill down his form, one previously ignored.

The pathetic man shuffled around his chair to stand beside him, studying the bottle within his weak grasp. "There is a little more in the bottle, my Lord, if you are still hungry."

The creature stared at the fire, his mind redirecting to his earlier thoughts for the briefest of seconds before focusing on the here and now. "Later," he said, deciding to set that aside. He had plans his followers must first make come to fruition before he could find his sons and possible other descendants. But first, the damn fire was too far, this body too weak. "Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail."

⁞™ **Ω…№④…Ω™⁞**

In a room that almost seemed to glow in the darkness rested two beds. In one bed, a form laid, not quite still but showing only minimal movement under a worn blanket. The other bed held a prone figure. A teenage boy that lay on his back straight as a board, arms tight to his sides, head facing towards the ceiling. If not for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, he could be mistaken for a corpse. Black hair like a rat's nest covered the pillow and the boy's forehead, but his eyes…

His eyes were wide open, staring up into nothingness. They were completely void of any white, left as black orbs with a tinge of red to pass as irises. The veins around those dark eyes protruded through the skin of his eyelids, cheeks, and as far as his temples. They were as visible as a brushes' strokes on his damp pale skin.

For several minutes, the red in his eyes swirled, his body still. Then fingers twitched, one hand's fingers curling unnaturally into a fist. His breathing became erratic, body beginning to convulse violently enough to arch over the bed. But his face stayed neutral, eyes wide open.

With a last arch over the bed, his body dropped back onto the mattress, before it sat upright. The black in the boy's eyes faded, revealing white sclera and red irises. With a few blinks, the red changed into emerald green, their glow piercing through the night.

The boy panted, looking around to find himself in a dark orange room, another bed just feet away, and moonlight shining through the window. The night was calm and his companion's snores helped to regulate his breathing with its familiar sound. He lifted his hands to his eyes, rubbing them raw before he ran his hands through his hair, the veins receding and a scar becoming visible on his forehead.

With a swallow, the boy muttered but one word.

"Voldemort."

⁞™ **Ω…№④…Ω™⁞**

" _Ní bheidh Ó tú liom i gcás ina gcomhlíonann na farraige sa spéir_ …" sang the creature, a little thing with arms and legs that lacked fingers and toes. Its skin looked smooth yet slimy, transparent under the bright spotlights as its veins stood out on display for all to see. The blonde curls upon its head bounced with every movement and inflection of its voice. It wore no clothes, a large shell seemingly strapped to its back and opened wide like butterfly wings. It was strange yet…oddly adorable.

Percy listened to it sing in a delicate voice as many like it danced in the background, their red curls swaying with their bodies. They were girls, were they not? Hard to tell, as they lacked genitals of any kind, and even then only questioning the beings themselves would lead to the correct answer. Percy will call the blond Shelly. Yes, Shelly.

"… _agus mar beidh an rolla scamaill ag muid a chanadh an t-amhrán na farraige._." Percy wished she could understand what the words to the song were. It was soothing. As she continued to watch the performance, movement to her left caught her attention, allowing her focus to stray from "Shelly" and study the world around her.

The room was dark, all light directed at the stage, a stage that…shouldn't…be there.

The sudden thought made her next breath catch in her throat. Where was she? Was she…supposed to be here?

The shell-creatures continued their song and dance, a soft lullaby and faint tapping of pointed legs now white noise to Percy's dulled panic. Looking down at her person, Percy realized she was seated in a theater seat, one like the many to her right and left, behind and in front of her. A theater, and she was the only audience member in the vast number of seats that stretched out further than seemed necessary for such a small stage.

The lights on the stage dimmed and faded into a blue glow that calmed Percy's panic, allowing her to easily study the theater. The rows upon rows of seats blended into the darkness behind her before walls and enormous double doors could be made out in the distance. The theater wasn't as big as her dread originally made it out to be.

The seat beneath her was firm, not the padded movie theater seat she had imagined but a wooden bench that stretched several yards to her right. Beside her the bench ended, with there being a path that cut through the benches before they appeared again on the other half of the theater. It was…quaint.

The stage was small, but with the performers being so small themselves, it seemed just the right size. Classic red curtains framed a backdrop of a starry night sky with the focus being a crescent moon with a face, smoking out of what looked like a cigarette holder. The actual frame to the stage consisted of two columns and two figures. The two figures were strange and took Percy a moment to make out. Were they fish…with legs?

"Matters of the mind remain a mystery to all who study it, especially the mad. And as you study the scene before you, you may notice we're all quite mad here."

Percy jerked in her seat, back straight as a board as she turned back to the benches on the other side of the theater. There, sat back on its haunches, was a very strange cat though not the strangest she's ever seen.

"Who…" the question struggled to come out, leaving her breathless with just one exhale of a word.

The cat's already nerve-wracking grin widened, showing off blood-stained human teeth so out of place, they could have come right out of Greek Mythology. With a twitch of its unpierced ear, it responded, "An unfortunate tagalong, apparently. This curious world seems to be both my demise and my revivification. But you, dear one, make this journey interesting in a way that baffles the mind, even the occasional insightful one."

Its words couldn't register fast enough for Percy to properly respond, though when she tried to ask for clarification, the cat held up a large gray paw to stop her.

"Hush now. Your mind still has much to recover from. When you can do more than stare blankly at me like a common Ruin, you will be fit to traverse these parts. Until then, I suggest you close your eyes and let _us_ handle this."

"Wha—" the puff of air that escaped her lungs left her gasping, her lungs burning. Why couldn't she talk!

" _Close_ your eyes."

With a force that wasn't of her own will, her eyes snapped shut firmly. A sense of vertigo hit her despite the darkness she found herself in. She felt herself lose all her energy in the void of her mind, drifting further and further into a pit of unconsciousness deeper than she'd ever experienced before.

It must have been hours, no days, before a soft humming broke through the blackness. It was…hard to make out. Faint.

"-to Percy? Eveline said you noticed something?"

Percy's eyes felt heavy, tingling with a pressure that made it hard to open them. She could hear voices around her, using her name with a familiarity that felt discomforting. Her body couldn't move, wouldn't move, but her eyes wormed around sluggishly under her iron lids.

"Yeah…we noticed some activity in her brainwave readings. It's not much but I was hoping it'd be something."

A yellow hue shined behind her lids, an odd light that she found herself debating on what feeling it invoked in her. Comfort? Unease? Well…she wasn't one to wait and see, struggling as she opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the fur, white and matted, and belonging to creatures it shouldn't. Three tall figures stood around her, wearing sleek black suits that flowed down their thin forms. Instead of three human heads atop the collars of their shirts and jackets, three large rabbit-like heads looked down on her. With wide and glossy black eyes that held no focus, the tilts to their heads were the only indication of where their sights were set.

Having seen creatures that looked more horrifying and nightmare-inducing, their very appearance didn't cause alarm. The fact they were surrounding her did.

Percy tried to lift an arm, hoping to swipe at one of their heads to cause a distraction and escape. Stiffness in her limbs halted her actions. At least one of her limbs, possibly an arm, ached with a deep soreness that had her involuntarily whimpering. She tried to grip her fingers into a fist, creating a sting like hundreds of needles running through the individual digits like a blazing fire. Another whimper had her choking, her throat dry unlike she'd ever felt before.

"She's awake? She's awake!" the voice was muffled somehow, filtered through an invisible film. Percy tried to track the voice with her eyes, only for them to land on the white rabbits. Their expressions hadn't changed, their bodies twitching awkwardly but otherwise they hadn't moved.

One reached out to her, spindly white fingers with long talon like nails inching towards her arm. Pushing past the pain and forcing her numb limbs to work with her, Percy pushed herself away. A slow process that eventually led to her hitting a wall.

Or was it a headboard?

"Wait—don't!"

Like a fleeting thought, Percy's mind changed to focus on the soft material on which she laid, a crisp white sheet crinkling with her movement. She set a hand to the material beside her thigh, caressing it to feel its softness despite the forming wrinkles. It was slightly warm, likely a result of her body heat.

A smudge of red caught her eye, drawing it to the space between her legs. The white of the sheets was stained a dark crimson, an oozing liquid spreading into a wide misshapen puddle beneath her. In a moment of panic, Percy scrambled to get away from the stained sheets, watching as something clung on to the bed from between her legs. A pressure so foreign yet so familiar came from within her abdomen and faded as an amorphous creature emerged from under her white gown as she tipped over the side of the bed.

"Hey careful!"

"Wha…wha da fah…" Percy rasped out, her throat burning as it failed to shriek in alarm. A cold rush ran down her body, her spine shuddering at the sight of the thing. She choked on a scream, either from fear or from her throat's soreness, it was hard to tell. She crawled backwards at a snail's pace, away from the pulsating entity on the bed covered in thick dark blood, weakly swatting away at hands that reached out to her. It was misshapen, or simply without form, a blob with strange tentacle-like appendages that gripped the sheets as it expanded and collapsed like a mutated beating heart.

"Percy? Percy! Calm down. You need to calm down." A figure crouched down beside her, keeping a respectable distance, quite the example of manners for a suited rabbit. Percy turned to the white rabbit, observing how its black void eyes stared at nothing yet focused on her, an eerie glare that unnerved her but was leagues more comforting than the _thing_ on the bed.

"Buh da…da thingh…uu see…" Percy pointed towards the bed, her eyes following her own finger to find the creature gone. The blood had disappeared, leaving only white crumpled sheets, with a tangled mess of wires and tubes hanging over the side, blood dripping over the side of the bed from the ends of some of the tubes. Percy's gaze followed the thin drops of a blood trail to her person, her mind calming enough to allow a stinging pain to break through her frazzled mind.

She looked to her arm to see what was once a miniscule puncture wound ripped open to bleed freely down her forearm and onto the floor. She stared at it blankly trying to make sense of her situation.

"Wha?" Percy coughed, forcing words through a dry and torn throat, "Wha ahpening? Wheh am ey?"

"You're in the infirmary, Percy." The rabbit's hands reached around Percy's neck to pull even more wires out from behind her head. She followed the wires movements until it led back to the rabbit's visage.

Except, it wasn't a rabbit.

"Anahbef?"

The blonde gave a small smile to the question of her name, nodding before deciding to give a verbal affirmative. Seeing that the brunette was coming out of her panicked state, Annabeth reached out with one hand to offer support around Percy's shoulders, holding out the other for her to take.

Percy allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, wobbling and almost collapsing before more hands held her up. She looked to the hands' owner to see more blond hair.

"Will?"

Getting another gentle smile in return, Percy fell silent, her shocked mind blank in the absence of adrenaline. As she was led to another bed, feeling more wires and tubes detaching from her person, she took in the usual sight of Camp Half-Blood's infirmary and the children of Apollo who frequented its halls.

"I don…fee so gud."

 

" _Into the hole again, we hurried along our way, into a once-glorious garden now steeped in dark decay."_ – Alice Liddell, American McGee's Alice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: June 3, 2017
> 
> Recently Revised:
> 
> Notes:
> 
> ~ Not Quite Binary Character: This is a tag added on the AO3 posting of this story. This is alluding to Percy herself. I decided to take this route because there are moments in the PJO series where Percy being male is a big part of it, specifically on Circe's Island and with the Hunters of Artemis. I decided on non-binary because of this, but still chose a physically born female Percy for biologic reasons. Percy's preferred pronouns are she/her pronouns though, mainly so I don't confuse myself while writing. I decided on this when I found out that Ruby Rose, who identifies as Gender-Fluid, said she preferred she/her pronouns. But because I am cisgender, I also decided to leave Percy's gender up to interpretation, though just know that I am aiming for something in the realm of genderqueer. If anyone has advice or tips on how to better represent this, don't be afraid to share. But I am trying my best here. (know that unless a character's gender, sexual orientation and such is 100% confirmed, I will most probably play around a bit with these traits, but still something that should fit the character. And no one will say at any time a definitive label for any of these character traits, so it's all up for interpretation based off what I display in the story)  
> ~ Stupid Notes: If anyone knows how to rid of the second note that's been appearing at the end of some of these chapters, please tell me. It's the note from Chapter 1, yet it's repeating over several of the others. I mostly read stories on AO3, but I'm more familiar with posting on Fanfiction.net so I'm not as comfortable with AO3 yet, at least not enough to know how to remove those notes.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Posted: June 6, 2015  
> Recently Revised: coming soon because I have a need for perfection!  
> Notes:  
> ~ Historical Research – I tried my best in researching English transportation, American female education liberties, and medical procedures for this chapter. I looked up the probable location for The Leaky Cauldron, and also the nearest available airport from it in the 40s; that happened to be London Heathrow Airport, known as London Airport from 1946 to around 1966. Since the twins are born in 1947, it worked pretty well. I also fell in love with the London taxi design, especially the ones that had a doorless passenger side until the 50s for luggage/trunks. Thankfully over 600,000 woman were in college by the 40s, so Fallon/Faith getting a complete muggle education isn’t far-fetched. And lastly, ultrasound wasn’t around until either the 50s or 60s, forgot which once I realized it was a no-go for me. But it just gave me a way to refer to Fallon/Faith’s ritual, since magic should have been able to tell how many babies she would have and their sex.


End file.
